Nightwatch
by TheStoryTellingGuy
Summary: We've heard the tales of the Hellsing and Iscariot Organizations, but we've never heard of what goes down in America and the surrounding countries - Begins a little before the events of Hellsing
1. I: Introductions

**A/N: A little story I decided to make after I started watching, Hellsing and Hellsing Ultimate, I hope you enjoy this story, I think its one of my better ones. Don't own the original, so, yeah…. enjoy.**

* * *

 **Nightwatch: I**

 _ **From the bodies blood is shed**_

 _ **Soon the ghouls become undead**_

"So that's your field report," Integra said, clearly annoyed with Alucard's less than professional approach. He had been warned that having already been attacked once by the Iscariot Organization, the vampire they were targeting was on high alert. But instead, Alucard had gone in guns blazing and scared him off. Now he was on a private jet going towards the United States.

"So what? It's not like we can't chase him. I'm just as angry as you are, I didn't even get a chance to see what he's made of. From my point of view, it would probably be mostly blood and cowardice." Sighing audibly, Integra took a second to collect herself before responding. "Well if what you said is true, about him going to the United States, then we aren't able to chase him. Our jurisdiction ends in international waters." Chuckling, Alucard grinned into the phone, "Like that's ever stopped us before."

Shaking her head, Integra responded, "Well it's stopping us now. The reason we don't do many missions in America - if not any - is because the organization there would love a chance to try and kill someone like you." Raising an eyebrow, Alucard licked his lips at the thought, "Well then, if they try anything like that, I'd just kill them." Slamming her fist down on the desk, Integra glared into the phone, nearly shouting, "And that's the type of cocky attitude that gets you ripped to shreds every mission!"

"Don't doubt the power of the Nightwatch Foundation. If I've heard the stories correctly, they have a ruthless leader, and a just as ruthless hunter under contract there by the name of Marshal Hopkins. I don't doubt your powers, Alucard, but if the rumors about him are true, then he has just as big a reputation as you do."

 _United States_

As the car drove up in front of the building, a man in a tux exited the vehicle, talking on the phone and smoking a cigarette. Shutting the door behind him, he blew a cloud of smoke as he responded to the caller, "So its our job to clean up the Brits' mess again. At this point, you might as well call them incompetent." Taking another drag at the cigarette, he listened as the person on the other end replied, "I wouldn't call them incompetent. If Sir Integra ever found out what we called her Organization, no jurisdiction in the world would stop her from sending her best here."

Smirking into the phone, the man scratched his unshaven cheek, saying, "Ah yes, the supposed Pet 'Vampire', Alucard the Great," putting stress on Vampire, obviously not believing the story. "Might have to go to England myself to see if its true, get a fight in if I have the time for it." Shaking his head, the caller replied, "Believe them or not, if the rumors are true then he's got just as much a reputation as you do. I wouldn't try fighting him."

"Now would you please focus on your mission, Mr. Hopkins. You have a party to crash and a special guest to 'meet'… and give them a little present from the Nightwatch Foundation."

Grinning, Marshal responded, his voice becoming husky at the thought of hunting another vampire, "You got it, boss." Closing the phone, he slipped it into his pocket as he took another heavy drag at the cigarette, finishing it off. Tossing the butt into a trash can, he reached into his pocket for another one, completely bypassing the opened box. Taking out a fancier container, he sifted through it, and took out the second one. Fumbling with his lighter, he tried several times to light it as he walked towards the building and crowd of people hoping to enter. Showing the guard a pass, he was shown to the front of the line and began walking towards the front door.

As he finally managed to get the cigarette lit, a bellhop stepped in front of him, barring his entrance. Annoyed, he looked down and said, "What's the matter? Get the hell out of my way." Shaking his head, the bellhop responded, "I'm sorry sir, but there's no smoking allowed inside." Pointing to a sign behind him, it clearly labeled the building as a no smoking area. Sighing, Marshal took the cigarette out of his mouth and stuck it in the sand.

Entering the building, Marshal took a second to look around. Tables lined with fancy dishes were set to the edge of the room, people dressed similar to him milled around the center of the room, and a grand staircase dominated the other side of the large chamber. Glancing towards the ceiling, he could see emergency water sprinklers past the chandeliers and lights, just in case of fire. _"Hmm,"_ Marshal thought, thinking ahead, _"So that's why there's no smoking allowed."_ Looking around, he could see in one of the corners, tucked away behind an ice sculpture, a service door. Making his way through the crowd, he snuck behind the sculpture and discreetly opened it and entered without anyone noticing.

Walking in the dimly lit room, he glanced around until he found a door that said "Roof Acces". Moving towards it, he tried opening it, but it wouldn't budge. Sighing, he took out a lockpick and after a bit of tinkering, was finally able to open the door. Walking through it, he began making his way up the stairs, until finally he reached another door that said "Roof". Pushing it open, he came out onto the roof of the two story building and glanced around. Seeing the water tower, he was about to go towards it, but he heard a cough from behind.

Turning, a security guard stood behind him, obviously annoyed. Pulling a cigar out of his coat lapel, he began to light it as he said, "So, fine evening, isn't it?" Sighing in annoyance, the guard replied, "Sir, guests are not allowed onto the roof of the building. I'm going to have to ask you to either go back downstairs or leave the function." Marshal simply shook his head. Putting the cigar to his lips, he spoke while holding it in his teeth, "You see, I've got some business to attend to up here, so I'm going to have to ask _you_ to leave… or at least take a little nap."

As he said it, he blew a puff of smoke from the cigar into the guard's face. As he inhaled, he could already feel the effects of the drug hindering his mind. Reaching out towards Marshal, the guard quickly fell to his knees as he grasped at his Marshal's wrist. And soon even that turned limp as he fell to the floor, unconscious.

Dropping the cigar, Marshal stomped it out, making sure not to breathe in any of the lingering smoke. Stepping away from his handiwork, he made his way towards the water tower. Climbing the ladder to the service entrance, he made sure that the tower was actually connected to the building. _"Don't wanna screw that up twice,"_ he thought, remembering the last time he did this. Opening the hatch, he looked in, making sure there was plenty of water in the tower. Pulling out a rosary, he closed his eyes and began muttering in Latin over it. Finished, he tossed the rosary into the water. Closing the hatch behind him, he made his way back towards the stairs, walking down them and finally out of the service door and back into the dance hall.

As he entered, he looked down at his wristwatch. Seeing the time, he looked towards the grand staircase as a bell wrung outside. As it rang, the room got quiet as someone came to the edge of the staircase. "Ladies and Gentlemen," the speaker said, drawing everyone's attention onto himself, "I'd like you all to be introduced to our special guest… Leonardo Maxwell!" As he said it, the room was filled with clapping and applause as the man of the hour walked down the stairs. Narrowing his eyes, he gazed on at the figure coming down the stairs. _"He's made everyone believe he's some bigshot actor,"_ he thought, slowly making his way towards him, _"That clever son of a bitch has got some talent if he's made this many people believe him."_

As he finally neared him, he could make out the crimson irises that marked him as a Vampire, and he licked his lips, grinning as he drew closer. Reaching out his hand, he approached him, saying, "Good evening Mr. Maxwell, I just wanna say that I loved you in whatever the hell movie you say you were in." Obviously having not heard the last part, Leo shook his hand, replying, "Ah, yes. Thank you so much. Are you a fan of my work?" Taking out another cigarette, Marshal lit it, smirking at the Vampire, saying huskily, "Very much so."

Nervously laughing, the Vampire said, "Uh, I do believe that there is no smoking allowed in the building." Chuckling, Marshal said smugly back, "Well, I do believe it to be a little too… _dry_ for my tastes." Saying this, he blew a cloud of smoke right into Leo's face, making him begin to hack as the smoke rose towards the ceiling. Reaching the ceiling sprinklers, the smoke culminated around one of them until finally, the alarms began. Flashing red lights flared to life as the ceiling sprinklers began to go off. At first, Leo only reacted with annoyance as the first few droplets landed on his suit. But then that annoyance quickly turned to pain - extremely excruciating pain.

Clasping a hand over his mouth so that he wouldn't scream, he glared at Marshal, who only smirked smugly at him. "Gotcha." Anger turning to terror, Leo lunged past him, without being held back. Pushing through the crowds of yelling people, wondering what was going on, he made his way quickly towards the door. Following closely behind, Marshal pulled out his phone and held the pound symbol until the number "2" button glowed. As he watched Leo exit the building, he pressed the button down and was soon rewarded by the screams of pain coming from outside.

Walking out the door, Leo stood before him, grasping his ears as he tried to block out the high frequency sounds coming from the cigarette Marshal had planted earlier. Smiling as he went towards him, he reached into his coat and pulled out his gun. Loading the silvery Uzi, he trained the sights on Leo, who glanced towards him with fear and resentment in his eyes. Smiling insanely, Marshal waggled his fingers at him and fínally said, "Buh-Bye," as he began unloading into him.

Staggering as each bullet impacted with him, Leo was pushed back against a light post, writhing around in pain. Each new bullet opened a new hole in his body, allowing more and more blood to leak and sputter out of him, until it was gushing out him like a fountain. Marshal kept his eyes locked with Leo's the entire time. Even when he heard people begin to scream behind him he didn't look back: he knew they had already ran.

Finally, as Leo's entire torso and suit were drenched in his own blood, the storm of bullets stopped. Falling to his knees, the rest of his body followed onto the floor, breathing raspilly face-first into the pavement. As he lay there, he heard the footsteps of his hunter draw closer until he knew he was right in front of him. Reaching down, Marshal lifted him by the hair, dragging him to a kneeling position so that he could look him in the eyes.

Licking his lips, he smiled like a kid in a candy store, saying, "And this is _always_ my favorite part." As he said this, he grasped the silver dagger and drove it right through the Vampire's heart. Eyes going wide as the pain registered, those same eyes rolled into the back of his head as the life slowly faded away from them. Falling away from the dagger, Marshal didn't stop the body from hitting the pavement again as it quickly burned away in blue flames.

Pulling another cigarette out of his pocket, he lit it, and drew another breath out of it. Wiping away the blood from his dagger, he walked across the street and towards the readily waiting black sedan. Opening the back door, he slid onto the seat, blowing another cloud of smoke out of the door before closing it. Looking back at him, the chauffeur smiled at him, saying, "Where to, sir?" Sighing, Marshal replied back, "Same place as always, Daniel." As the sedan pulled away from the curb, Marshal looked back and could already see the police and firemen arriving, their lights flashing as they drove towards the building. Vanishing from sight as they pulled around a corner, Marshal turned to look ahead, getting comfortable in his seat.

Looking in the rearview mirror, Daniel stared at Marshal's relection and asked, "So, how was the mission, Mr. Hopkins?" Taking a second to respond, Marshal took a drag at the cigarette, blowing a smoke cloud out of the open window. Shifting in his seat until his feet were propped up on the other seats, he leaned his head back, thinking. Finally, he looked right at Daniel in the rearview mirror and said, without a trace of humor in his tone, "It was boring."


	2. II: A Problem

Night was calm in New York, or at least calm if you were used to the sounds of the city. People walking around en masse, cars driving with the occasional honk, and the often echoing siren of a lone police cruiser. For those who slept early, it was usually easy to fall asleep. Except for Marshal. Standing on the balcony of his small apartment, Marshal clutched the railing as he stared out at the city that never slept. He stood there, drinking in the sights and sounds of the city. But it wasn't these things that gave him trouble sleeping.

He recalled that a few minutes earlier that he had been tossing and turning in his bedsheets, dreaming. Or more accurately, having a nightmare. Unfortunately for him, it was much like the ones he had had in the past: Screams, Knives, and a whole lot of blood. His shift in attitude had taken a real toll on his psyche. But what was different about this one was strange, and he was now trying to piece it together before he forgot about the experience.

He tried to remember past his muddled mind, trying to recall what exactly he dreamed. But all he got back were bits and pieces. He definitely remembered the face of a girl; one who had fallen and he wouldn't allow to get back up, and he also remembered the expression on his face. A smile. The same heartless smile he wore whenever he killed some demonic creature. But strangely, he also remembered that his dream had shown his first encounter with the Nightwatch Foundation.

" _So, you're Mr. Hopkins?" The person asked the question, seemingly wanting confirmation, but Hopkins just snorted at it. "You people damn well know my name, so I don't see the point of asking." The man smiled, obviously amused by this showing of attempted dominance. Instead of following up on the previous statement, the man instead switched to a different conversation, asking the question, "How would you feel about hunting_ different _prey?" Looking up, Hopkins raised an eyebrow, interested in this sudden turn. "What do you mean?"_

But that's as far as the dream went. Stepping away from the railing, Marshal walked back inside. Deciding he had had enough sleep, Marshal picked up the remote and turned on the TV, which had previously been on a News Channel. Flickering to life, the anchorman was already midway through the evening report, but he was just in time for the report of his little "outing". " _...Police are still trying to locate the killer of Leonardo Maxwell,"_ he began, somewhat distraught at this news.

" _They currently have no leads, although they do believe this to be a religiously motivated crime. Upon investigation of the area, a Rosary had been found floating in a water tower attached to the building, which explains why the sprinkler systems had gone off somewhat. A guard had also been found, unconscious from a drugging, with what he described as 'fleeting thoughts' of what the killer looked like. Wherever he is, the police have confirmed that they are investigating any Christian organizations in the Manhattan area…"_

As he said it, Marshal pointed the remote at the TV once again and turned it off. Setting the remote down on the dinky coffee table, Marshal muttered, "That's enough TV for now." Leaning back in his chair, he stared at the ceiling, blowing air out his nostrils as he thought. Sighing, he got up and made his way to his closet-sized bedroom. As he closed the door and laid down on top of the sheets, he muttered, "They're gonna tear me apart tomorrow about this."

 **Nightwatch: II**

 _ **From the bodies blood is shed**_

 _ **Soon the ghouls become undead**_

"You idiot! How could you be so clumsy!" Almost as soon as he walked in the lobby of the facility, he had been told that Mr. Nightwatch himself wanted a word with him. Usually it was a once a month deal where he'd actually meet the guy, but something he had been doing had angered him enough to the point where he saw him once a week. And apparently, he was now being told why. "You've been slacking during your latest jobs. More witnesses, evidence of our involvement. For God's sake, Marshal, if you keep doing this, then the Government will be on our ass!"

Marshal sighed. He had been told many times that it was imperative that the Government had as little to do with Nightwatch as possible, being extra careful when it came to international case like this. Usually whenever he had this speech given, he gave some stupid excuse for why he messed something up. But this time, he had a reason.

"Nightmares, you say?" Mr. Nightwatch walked behind his desk, sitting down as he thought. He mulled over what Marshal's dreams could mean. Being a man who worked with the demonics, he was extremely superstitious of dream pattern changes, thinking something important might come of it. But for the most part, he didn't have a clue. Sitting up, he looked at Marshal, shrugging his shoulders. "Well we know therapy doesn't work with you," he said, remembering the sight of the therapist nearly beaten to death, "It would seem your mind has a _violent_ way of keeping hidden memories locked away."

"I suggest you do what you see fit to calm down. You are one of our most valuable assets, Marshal… we need you in top form for these missions." Nodding, Marshal gave the usual sign of understanding and left the room, already knowing what he was going to do.

Entering the facility's personal gun range, Marshal noted that someone was already there and firing with extra vigor. He had a guess for who it was and knew they were already in a bad mood, so he chose to ignore them. Instead, he walked over to one of the shooting booths and looked at the long expanse of targets. Looking at the ones that were currently being shot at, his earlier theory was proven true as several shots whizzed past and only three managed to hit non-lethal shots. Smiling, he grabbed a pistol left behind from someone's earlier use and took aim. Three remaining bullets: Two to the eyes and one to the heart.

As he shot the last bullet, he could hear the annoyance coming from the person's voice when they stopped shooting. Walking out of the booth, he could already hear them coming and he turned to face her. "So what's got your panties in a twist, sweetheart?" he said, letting the sarcasm drip from his voice. Scoffing, she nearly shouted back, "You do! What with nearly giving up the game for us with that last mission!" Leaning against the wall, Marshal looked up and chuckled, "Are all the Nightwatch family members gonna lecture me today?"

"If it wasn't for you, I'd be the one to go on those missions for my father. And I don't want to hear anything about that expendable crap. I've listened to your meetings. 'Valuable asset' this, 'valuable asset' that. He knows I can fight for myself!" Shaking his head, Marshal gave her another smile, saying, "That temper of yours is probably a reason why he keeps you away from missions." Stepping away from the wall, he said, "I'm gonna go get coffee. Want some?" Glaring at him for a moment, she looked about ready to slap him. Instead, she said quietly, "Get me a cappuccino, jerk."

Stepping out of the building, Marshal walked out of the alleyway that housed the entrance to the facility and into another side street. Joining the throng, he had to pick up the pace, otherwise he might've been trampled. Not one for crowds, Marshal exited onto a side street as soon as possible. But as he walked, he took a chance glance to the left and saw something he'd seen many times in New York before. At just the entrance of an alleyway, a woman was struggling with a man; trying to fend off her attacker as his hands grew ever closer to her nether region. He could hear her gasps from across the street as his hand swept her thigh and his grunts as she elbowed him in the stomach.

Sighing, Marshal was about to keep walking, but then took another look back at them. As he looked back, he could hear the man grunt out, "Oh don't worry, my dear. You'll only be impaled twice today!" Hearing this, Marshal knew that the woman was probably going to die. Shaking his head, he began to cross the street, pulling his gun out of his jacket. Calling as he walked, he shouted, "Look buddy, let the lady go." As he said it, he immediately caught the attention of the potential rapist and victim, momentarily halting their struggle. Both their focus was on in: a curious one from the rapist and a terrified one from the victim. "Your first mistake was doing this in broad daylight," he began, drawing ever closer to the pair, "Your second mistake was doing this on the coffee route of a guy who's casual weapon is a semi-automatic pistol, with silver bullets blessed by a priest so that whoever is killed by it is seen as a 'holy death' by the church."

As he said the last part, panic quickly flared up in the eyes of the rapist as he took another few steps towards him. But that panic quickly vanished, even going as far as to smirk at Marshal. Turning to the woman, he gave her a smile, saying, "I'm sorry, my dear. It looks like I'll only be impaling you once today!" And before Marshal could react, the rapist leaned down and bit down on the woman's neck, releasing a gasp of shock and horror from her mouth. Blinking away his surprise, Marshal immediately took aim and fired at the vampire. But, he was too quick and only took a glancing shot to the shoulder. Racing down the alleyway, the vampire bolted away from Marshal. Firing randomly in his direction, a look of satisfaction crossed his face as he heard a yell of pain from the vampire's direction.

Holstering the gun in his jacket, he knelt by the woman's side, inspecting her as blood leaked out of the two holes in her neck. Shaking his head, Marshal knew what would come of this and began to reach for his gun again. But as he took ahold of the grip, he recalled something that Mr. Nightwatch had said in his first week. _"Chance encounters are not chance, but destined."_ As he thought this, he remembered his dream, and strangely the woman in his dream looked similar to the one laying on the ground before him. Sighing, he dug his hands under the woman and hoisted her onto his shoulder. Standing, he looked around, making sure no one was around to see him. Walking in the direction of the facility, he decided the best course of action would be to take the side roads that people rarely took.

"No! Stop it!" the woman shouted, as she jolted awake from her bed. Sitting up straight, she was panting as she tried to regain her breath. Feeling her hands, she saw that they were cold and clammy, soaked in her own sweat. As she sat there, she felt a twinge of pain on her neck and reached her hand up to feel the remnants of some sort of wound on her neck. And just as she did this, her memory came back to her, hitting her like a freight train. Falling back into the bed, she clutched her racing heart as she began to panic. Hearing something to her left, she spun around, seeing a door that had previously not been there open.

Walking through it was a man coming on in years and what appeared to be his secretary. Before the man could speak, though, the secretary spat out, "You should consider yourself lucky. We don't usually allow vampires in the facility." The man put a hand up to hush her, saying, "That's enough, Jane." Turning to the woman, he spoke in a reassuring tone, "You won't have to worry about your attacker for long, Miss…" The woman answered back, caution in her voice, "Alice… And what do you mean about 'I won't have to worry about my attacker for long'?" Turning away from her, the man began walking towards the door. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "Because, Miss Alice, when it comes to hunting these things, we have the best in the business."

Standing outside the warehouse, Marshal gave it a cursory glance. To the casual viewer, the place would look abandoned: broken windows, graffiti, and several dumpsters that the garbagemen refused to get. The perfect place for a vampire nest. Glancing down at the ground, he made sure that the blood trail he followed had led here. Vampires could move very quickly when they wanted to, but this only led to this one's downfall. Moving that quickly, the vampire had pumped more blood out of its wounds, leaving a clear splatter trail of where it had headed. Smiling coldly, Hopkins looked down at his gun and clicked off the safety. Raising his foot, he slammed it into the door, causing whatever kept it shut to splinter. And with one more ferocious kick, he knocked the door right off its hinges, sending it sliding across the dust covered floor.

Marching in, he glanced around quickly, seeing that the area he had stepped into was like a lobby. He was on the ground floor, and there were stairs in front of him that led to the second floor. He was about to start his search, but something alerted him to movement upstairs. Raising his eyes, he saw five dark shapes lining the balcony, with one leaning against the wall behind them. "So I guess you're the one who shot Dixon?" Hopkins didn't speak back, he only answered with a simple nod. And as he did it, the five vampires leaped at him, ready to tear him to pieces.

In a flash, Hopkins raised his gun and fired a spray of bullets. Colliding with the spray, the vampires fell to the floor and clumsily rolled into a lying position. None of them could move as blood leaked out of several holes in their bodies. The vampire still on the balcony could only watch in horror as Hopkins systematically went from body to body, plunging his dagger into their hearts. As he stared, that horror turned to panic as Hopkins turned his gaze on him. Turning on a dime, he sprinted towards the nearest window, planning on leaping through it to escape. But just as his legs were tensing to make the leap, searing pain shot up through his body as he collapsed to the floor, rolling to a stop in front of the window. Glancing down, the vampire had to suppress the urge to gag as he stared down at his mangled legs. Reaching for the railing, he tried to haul himself over it so he fall to the ground floor and crawl away, but Hopkins wouldn't let him.

Stomping on the vampire's deformed legs, a shout of pain escaped from the vampire's mouth, and continued as he dragged him by the hair into a kneeling position. Looking up at Hopkins, he quietly said, "How?" Hopkins just shook his head, deciding to let him in on the little secret. "You vampires may be able to move quick, but you're easy to hit if you move so predictably." The way he said it gave a note of finality to their little chat and the vampire knew what was coming next. Looking up at him with pleading eyes, the monster tried to beg but all he got back was a cold stare and an even colder dagger to the heart.

Pulling his blade out of the already burning corpse, Marshal wiped it clean of the blood on it. Looking down at the body one last time, he made sure that what he had identified was correct before sheathing his dagger. Reaching into his coat, he pulled out his phone and quickly dialed into headquarters. "Hey, Daniel it's me, Marshal. Can you put the boss on the line, I think we have a problem. And I have a feeling he's not going to like it."

 **So yeah, as soon as I typed the word 'rapist' I decided to change the rating. Will probably stay the same, seeing as how I'm now realizing that some scenes I'm planning will be pretty graphic… in a reading sense.**

 **I also want to say that this series is going to be pretty irregular to other series I have… as in a once a month or twice a year thing. Don't expect it to be a weekly thing.**

 **May 9, 2019: I just wanted to update this fic to see if there would be any interest in it again. Sorry if you thought there'd be a new chapter, or something.**


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